


protect me from the pain, don't become the cause of it

by pragmatic



Category: The 100
Genre: F/M, bellarke on the ark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7348216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pragmatic/pseuds/pragmatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what if the ark wasn't running out of oxygen</p>
            </blockquote>





	protect me from the pain, don't become the cause of it

She feels the blood before she feels the pain, the stickiness, the warmth. She puts a hand to her stomach, wondering why she hears drops hitting the floor. Then it hits her, the blinding shock, the panic, the overwhelming pain. She falls to her knees and tries not to vomit, but when she brings a hand to her mouth, it's covered in blood, and she heaves onto the floor. Everything feels like it's moving slower, but that could just be her. She has a sinking feeling, a feeling she gets in her gut when something is really wrong.   
This definitely classifies as really wrong, she's bleeding out and surrounded by her own puke. Her lungs seem to be getting smaller, harder to breathe into, she gasps and the wound pulls. She cries out.   
She hears footsteps come to a halt beside her. "Holy shit-come on, I got you." She doesn't have the body power to see who has graced her with their presence. She feels strong arms hoist her off the floor, and she groans while they mutter apologies. They swing her into their arms and begin to run, much faster than anyone should be able to with a dying girl in their arms.   
She falls unconscious on the way to medical, which she sees as a feet considering it is just two hallways away. She thinks she may be having one of those out of body experiences, only from inside her body, if that's possible. She can hear the people moving around her, feel them prodding her, feels someone holding her hand, smells the blood and antiseptic, but she can't fucking move. She puts all her effort into trying to open her eyes and the only result she receives is a headache.   
Her subconscious must fall under during surgery, thank god, she doesn't know if she could handle feeling that amount of agony.   
She wakes up in only slightly less pain than before, which she's grateful for, and she's greeted by very blinding lights.   
She touches the wound and winces, she opens her eyes and looks around. She has a window, which is strange because she didn't know there were windows in the medbay. She can see earth, slowly making its rotation, the moon doing the same. She has a thin sheet covering her and she shivers, pulling it tighter.   
To her right are a few machines, pumping liquids in and out of her, and to her left is a sleeping man she's never seen before. She should probably be more alarmed by this, but she honestly doesn't have the energy to care. If he wanted to hurt her he could have easily done it before now.   
She isn't interested in talking to anyone, or at all for that matter, but she is rather curious about how she got a bullet hole in her side.   
"Hey, hey, wake up. Hey!" She pokes him as best she can without moving too much, and he jerks awake.   
He's confused for a moment, he looks around, and then finally gains some recognition and asks her if she'd like some water.   
She stares for a moment, not knowing how to answer because she's obviously dying of thirst but doesn't know if she can trust him.   
Her thirst wins over her judgement in the end. He disappears for a few minutes, enough to make her wonder how bad she looks, she does her best to pat down her hair but eventually decides she doesn't really care.   
He comes back with water and pain relieves, which she takes greedily.   
They sit in silence for a moment, while she digests the pills and has enough saliva in her mouth to form a sentence.   
"So, who are you?" A marvelous way to start a conversation, good job.   
Smile might be too big of a word for what he does, but she finds it cute none the less.   
"Bellamy Blake."  
She nods. "Clarke-"  
"I know who you are." He says sharply, jaw locked.   
She sips her water and frowns.   
"You seem a little angered by that."  
He shakes his head and leans forward in his chair. She tries not to shrink into her bed, or notice how impressively big his arms are.   
How do you even work out in space?  
"Not angered, frustrated maybe, do you remember what happened?" He clasps his hands, not nervously.   
His jaw ticks as he waits for her answer, she wishes there weren't so many things to notice about him.   
It simply wasn't fair, he seems kind of rude and rude people shouldn't be so attractive. With jet black hair, freckles splattered across his brown skin and dark eyes, he was obviously beautiful. And it looked like he knew it too, even worse. She suddenly remembers him asking her a question and she stops her ogling.   
"I remember getting shot, someone carrying me to the medbay, and now I'm here. Details are a little fuzzy but I think that should be excused in this situation." She leans back against her pillows, grimacing. His face twists.   
"I'm the one who found you in sector 5, you seemed to have a lot of blood for someone so small." He says this in a way that she knows it's not supposed to be a joke. She probably scarred the poor guy.   
"Thank you, for saving my life and all. Pretty decent of you."   
"You're not going to ask who shot you?" He asks, incredulous.   
"I figured you'd tell me if you knew, do you know?" She raises her eyebrows.   
He furrows his brow. "No."  
"Exactly." She looks at the ceiling and counts twelve cracks.   
"I'm not here to tell you the story anyway, that's your doctors job." He's leaned back in his chair too, looking like he's prepared to stay a while.   
"Why are you here then?"  
"You act like I'm harassing you with me presence." He snips. She shrugs.   
"I didn't ask for a watch dog."  
He smirks. "Well you're getting one anyway, your family thinks it's best that you have a body guard. And they hired me." She suddenly feels a great desire to punch his smug face.   
"My family thinks a lot of things, doesn't make them true." She taps her fingers against her cup, liking the sound.   
"Whether you need it or not, you're stuck with me, so get used to it."  
"You seem to have come to terms with it."   
"I'm getting paid to follow you around, easiest money I've ever made." He puts his hands behind his head causing his shirt to ride up a little, she refuses to let herself stare.   
"Do I get paid for having to put up with you?" She sneers, cute boys are always the worst, which is why she frequently sticks to girls.  
"I'm protecting you, you should be thanking me."   
"The way I see it, my family is forcing me to have no privacy for who knows how long, that doesn't exactly sound appealing."   
"Don't worry, I'll let you go to the bathroom by yourself."  
"My hero." She deadpans.   
"You know it."

She spends the next week in the medbay, being poked in places she'd rather not speak of. She will never understand why they need so many urinal samples, her pee is going to be the same every time.   
Her mother can't be on the case, since doctors aren't allowed to look after family, and Clarke's grateful. She knows she couldn't handle an overbearing doctor and mother at the same time. Bellamy doesn't leave her side, he doesn't speak unless he's spoken to. Which isn't very often since she's still sulking about having a body guard in the first place.   
He doesn't really seem to care, he looks after the little things that the doctors don't and sticks to his own.   
"Are they investigating who did it?" She asks one day as he's wheeling her down the hall, a routine they seem to have fallen into.   
"Yes, I don't think they've found anything yet."   
She fingers the fresh bandage they put on that morning, wonders what caused her to be the victim. Why it's her to has to put her life on hold, why it's her that has to have constant protection, she lets her eyes well for a moment before instantly feeling like shit. People have survived worse, and she shouldn't be sour about having somewhat decent company. Even if Bellamy is a dick most of the time.   
"Can we go back?" She says, suddenly not wanting to be so exposed. She knows she's the talk of the ark, a breaking story that has people she doesn't know dropping off gifts so they can hear the whole thing. Bellamy deals with them quickly, sometimes threatening to break their arm. Clarke appreciates it.   
"Sure." He turns her around and begins to walk back to her room.   
He helps her into bed without actually touching her, and sits down in his chair and begins to read.   
The first day he showed up with the book, she was surprised. She didn't know that the ark still allowed books to be kept, he had explained that it was his fathers. She took special care to ignore the word was.   
"What's it even about?" She asks, settling into her pillows to watch him.   
He can be somewhat interesting when he isn't trying to be a stone, all cold and closed off. She hopes this is one of those times.   
"Greek mythology. I used to read it to-" he cuts himself off abruptly and curses under his breath."-to help fall asleep." He finishes.   
She nods, he clearly has secrets that he'd rather not share, and she's fine with that. As soon as they catch the shooter it's not like they'll be spending anymore time together anyway.   
She ignores the sadness that blooms in her chest at that thought.   
She knew that, she always knew that. They both would have to move on eventually, it was only reasonable.   
She had never actually allowed herself to think about it before though. He notices her change in mood and asks what's wrong.   
She doesn't want to tell him that she's grown somewhat attached to him, to their banter and his bad jokes.   
So she smiles and says nothing.   
"You wanna read to me?"   
"No."  
"Ass."  
He grins, "I know."

Another week passes before she's allowed to go home. She didn't realize how much she had missed her bed until she was able to sleep in it again. And god how she missed drawing, she was a little rusty, but she manages to draw a field of flowers to show Bellamy when he picks her up for their walk.   
He takes care to to fold it and place it in his guard jacket pocket, patting it softly.   
"You don't have to keep it." She says, and he looks like she's personally offended him. "Of course I do."  
"Whatever nerd. Let's go."  
She gets used to not seeing him quite as often as before. It's not like they spent every second together anyway, he would be relieved for a few hours a day to go home, shower and change his clothes.   
She didn't ask him about his family, he seemed to bristle anytime it was brought up, and she wasn't going to risk making him uncomfortable.   
He always came back from his compartment frowning slightly, and she always made a joke to pull a grin out of him. Her jokes were almost as bad as his, but they laughed at them none the less.   
Since she spent most of her time at home, she only saw him a couple hours a day, which she supposed was for the best. She needed to start weening herself off of him, it had been nearly a month since the shooting, the trial would be held soon and the shooter would be caught.   
And then no more Bellamy.   
He comes over to watch a movie, and they go for a walk to make sure she doesn't become a hermit. He takes her home and they say goodbye until the next day. Weening.   
Her parents are usually out for most of the day, working and coming home for dinner. She's telling the story about how a kid in the hallway asked if she really almost bled to death, when her mother interrupts to ask about Bellamy.   
"Are you two...together?"   
"Abby," Her father warns, clearly they've already had this discussion without Clarke.   
"Only for a few hours a day." Clarke doesn't want to make this a big deal, of course they're not dating.   
"Clarke-" Abby starts.   
"Mom, I know he won't be around for ever, I'm not getting attached, promise." She scoops the last peas into her mouth and rinses off her plate before saying goodnight.   
She hears their murmured argument in her room, and she grabs her tablet to text Wells. They haven't spent a lot of time together, with him still in school and her still in recovery.   
But they talk every night, and they're still best friends.   
They talk about his classes and all the notes she's going to have to catch up on.   
'How's Bellamy?'  
She had been waiting for him to ask, she had been hoping he wouldn't.   
'Fine I suppose' she replies.   
'Clarke.'  
'Wells.'  
'I don't want you getting hurt, that's all.'  
'I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself.'  
He doesn't reply right away, and she thinks the conversation may be over, but the tablet beeps again minutes later.   
'I know the way you care about him, and I know the way he cares about you. Just, be careful.'  
She has to read the message a few times to get the words to sink in, and then she doesn't reply. She knows how to keep her feelings in check, she can keep this under control. 

But then her father dies, and she doesn't know how to deal with any emotions at all. She refuses to talk to anyone, her mother, Wells, she even refuses Bellamy's comfort. He comes by her compartment ever day to check on her, and she never lets him in. She's never felt so much pain before, and it's not a take a pill, have a nap, you'll feel better kind of pain.   
It's a hollow ache that never fades, it's her heart breaking a million times over until she's sure it can never heal, it's crying until her whole body feels empty and she has no tears left. It's the worst kind of pain she can possibly imagine, and it never gets better. She doesn't want to feel at all, she doesn't want pity or to be put back together. She wants to feel nothing. The day she realizes how to do that is the day she lets Bellamy inside. She hasn't seen him in weeks, and he looks much older than he should. There are purple highlights under his eyes, and he has more beard than she's ever seen him with. He looks exhausted, and her heart hurts when she realizes she's the reason why.   
He takes her in for a moment, and then steps inside without saying a word. She closes the door behind him and then leans against it.   
She's scared.   
Not of him, never of him, but she's scared she's lost him, scared that she's ruined whatever it was that they had. He doesn't speak for a long time, and her anxiety only worsens.   
He's facing away from her and she hates that she can't tell how he's feeling. He clenches and unclenches his fists four times before he turns around to look at her.   
"Did it make you feel better?" He says, grinding his teeth.   
She's never seen him angry, but he's told her about the temper he has, the men that he's hurt for touching his mom. She knows he would never lay a hand on her, but she also knows that he could hurt her with his words just as bad as he could with his fists.   
"What?" She asks, straightening from her position against the door.   
His fists tremor. "Pushing everyone out. Did it help? Did it make the pain go away?" He clenches his jaw, and she can tell he's doing everything in his power not to lose it. She doesn't know how to answer, she doesn't say anything. He shakes his head, and laughs humorlessly.   
"I know that it didn't." He spits.   
"Bellamy-"   
His words cut clean across hers. "Do you know how sick it made me? That you were in so much pain? And you wouldn't allow me to help you? You wouldn't let me even try! You cut me off, and didn't even think about what it was doing to me. I understand what it's like to lose a parent, it fucking sucks, and I could have helped you. But you didn't even give me the chance." His jaw ticks as he stares at her, he pushes his hands through his hair and then places them on his hips.   
"I didn't know you felt like that." Her voice is so small, yet it feels as if it echoes. She looks up from the ground to see he's gravitated towards her.   
"You realize that you're my only friend, Clarke." His voice is raspy, and it sounds as if he's holding back tears. She looks back at the ground, but he totally closes the space between them and tips her chin up.   
"You're my best friend. And you still act as if I'm just the help." The sadness in his voice breaks her heart, but also makes her so angry she could spit.   
"That is not true and you know it."  
"Do I?" He lets his hand fall away from her face, but she catches it and holds it between her own.   
"I pushed you away because I didn't want you to see me like that, like this. Broken and fragile, I wanted you to see me when I was better, healed. I've come to think very highly of your opinion about me, and I didn't want it to be clouded by the grieving girl that I'm not." She squeezes his hand, trying to make him understand. He sighs, and drops his forehead into hers.   
"I don't understand you, Clarke. And how can I when you think that I'm going to like you less because your father died. That's the most twisted logic I've ever heard." He strokes her knuckles with his thumb absently.   
She closes her eyes. "I don't understand me, either." She admits.   
"I want to, understand you, but you have to let me, you have to be ok with me seeing all your parts, broken or not, healed or not, I want to do that Clarke." He breathes.   
She opens her eyes.   
"I want that, too."  
"Ok. Good, glad we're agreeing."  
She waits a few minutes before speaking, gathering her courage.   
"Bellamy?"  
"Hmm."  
"I know how you can make me feel better." He opens his eyes, too.   
"How is that?"   
She never lets her eyes leave his as she takes his hands and places them on her waist, then let's her own trace the hem of his shirt.   
"Clarke..."   
Her grips on his shirt tightens. "Please, I just, I want to not feel nothing for a while. Please, Bell."  
He glowers. "That's not fair."  
She knows he can't resist doing what she wants when she calls him Bell.   
"We never made any rules." She lets her hands slip under his shirt and he doesn't stop her, it sends a thrill through her stomach.   
"Clarke, we, we should wait until you're not upset. Until you've really thought about this. Thought about what you really want." His hands tighten on her waist and he closes his eyes as her hands snake up his back.   
"I've always wanted this, Bellamy."   
He snaps his eyes to hers, not quite believing her.   
"Since when."  
"Why does that matter?"  
"I want to know who developed the crush first." He says it like she should already know this.   
"Definitely you."  
She leans up to kiss him, soft and hesitant. He pushes her into the door gently, thumbs skimming the bare skin her tank doesn't cover. Her hands tangle in his hair, something she's always wanted to do, and it's just as soft as she expected.   
"What time does your mom get home?" He mumbles against her lips.   
"Seven."  
"And what time is it now?"  
"Three."  
"Mmh, perfect." He hoists her up until her legs wrap around his waist and carries her into the bedroom, kicking the door shut.   
They take things very slow, to Clarke's distaste. He kisses her lazily for a while before he even thinks about taking off her clothes.   
"Have you done this before?" He asks, kissing her stomach.   
"Yes."  
"With a guy?"   
She huffs. "...No."  
"Exactly."  
They continue to go turtle pace until six thirty, and Bellamy says he should get home before her mother does.   
He gives her one lingering kiss before he goes, leaving her smiling like some girl with a crush. Which really, she is.

When her mom comes home to a smiling Clarke, she asks what happened.   
"I talked to Bellamy." She says simply, and her mother doesn't need to ask any more.   
"That's great, honey."  
"Thank you."  
"I heard they scheduled the trial."  
Clarke swallows. "When?"  
"Next week."  
"Who do they think it is?"  
"Graham Sydney."  
Clarke sneers at the mention of his name. Graham has always been a sleaze ball, cheating on tests and passing anyone and everyone's boundaries. He and Clarke have been at odds since eighth grade, when her dad won the election to be on the council and his mom didn't.   
She hates him. And now with even more reason.   
"What proof do they have?" She asks, gritting her teeth.   
"They found a gun registered underneath his name."  
"Do you think he'll admit to it?"  
"No, but I do think he'll get caught in all his lies."

Clarke goes back to school two days later, and everyone is happy to see her. Wells crushes her in a hug, and she hugs him back just as hard.   
"I missed you." He says.   
"I missed you, too."  
Her classmates give her a card that they all signed, and she grins so hard her cheeks hurt.   
She made plans to see Bellamy after school, and waits in hallway three where they planned to meet, a hallway that isn't used frequently. He surprises her from behind, except his hands aren't the right size, and his grip is too tight.   
"Graham." She snarls. She twists away from his touch only to have him shove her against the wall.   
"You think you can get away with being a snitch, Griffin?" He presses her farther into the wall and she struggles to breath.   
"I didn't say anything to them, and I didn't have any reason to believe it was you. Until now." She hisses.   
"If that damn guard hadn't come, I wouldn't have missed and you'd be dead right now." He growls, he brings his hand up to her throat, closing his fingers around it. She thrashes around, but it's no use. Especially with her bullet wound.   
"I don't understand why you want me dead." She wheezes.   
He smiles with malice.   
"You're the little rich girl who's father stole everything from us, you ruined my life." He snarls, tightening his grip on her throat. Her vision is beginning to become cloudy at the edges.   
"He won the election fair and square, you dick, it's not our fault that no one wanted your moms shitty decisions deciding our future." Talking is beginning to get too difficult, and breathing even harder.   
"You little-" someone rips him away from Clarke, and she falls to the floor, coughing and sputtering. She holds her throat and tries to stand, she hears bone crushing into bone and she looks to her right.   
Bellamy is pinning Graham to the ground, giving him blow after blow.   
"Bellamy! Bellamy, stop!"  
"You fucking piece of shit. Don't go near her, don't think about her, and don't even think about-"  
"Bellamy. That's enough." Clarke's voice is hard, finally getting through to him. He stops his fists mid punch.   
"I want to kill you, but I'm not that merciful. I hope you rot in hell." He gets off Graham and walks over to Clarke, taking her face in his hands.   
"Are you ok?" A few tears slip down her cheeks as she nods and he tucks her into his chest. He rubs her back.   
"I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner."  
"You got here. That's all that matters." She snuggles into his chest and they begin to walk back to her compartment, leaving Graham lying on the floor. 

Graham isn't at school the next day, but Bellamy insists on walking her to each class and walking her home.   
She doesn't mind.   
He continues to do this until the trial, where all of her classmates have shown up to. Her hands shake nervously and he grips them tightly.   
"He is guilty. They have video proof of him admitting it in hallway three. He isn't getting away with anything." She nods and he kisses her forehead.   
"I'll be right here the entire time." He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze and she nods once more.   
Graham's questioning goes as expected, he denies anything her lawyer asks him.   
When she's called to the stand, she acts professional. She shows off the bruises that mark her neck and she stands proud. She looks at Bellamy the entire time, and he doesn't look away once.   
"When did Graham's harassment start, Ms. Griffin?"  
"Five years ago."  
"Has he always been violent?"  
"No. He was usually just rude, tried to get under my skin."  
"Was there any reasoning for this behavior?"  
"He blames my family and I for his mother not being elected a spot on the council." She says, easy.   
"I see. Do you mind if I ask about the bruises on you neck?"  
She steels herself, inhales. "Of course not. I got them about three days ago, Graham attacked me in a hall, threatening my life once more because he had missed the first time." The crowd makes audible gasps and Clarke agrees.   
It was terribly rude of him.   
"I have no further questions your honor." Clarke makes an effort not to let her knees buckle on the way back to her seat, she succeeds. Bellamy gives her a smile that warms her from her head to her toes, and she smiles back just as big. A recess is called before the jury decides, Judge Kane calls the room to order. He waits a few moments before speaking, and her hands are slick with sweat.   
He clears his throat. "Seeing the evidence laid before me, I have no other choice but to charge Graham Sydney with attempted murder. And because Mr. Sydney pleaded not guilty, I will be adding the consequence of solitary."   
As they take Graham away, she gives him a sly smirk that has him wrenching against his cuffs.   
"I'll be seeing you, never." She even gives a flirty little wave for good measure. Bellamy stands beside her and they watch for the last time that they'll ever have to deal with Graham.   
"I am so fucking proud of you." Bellamy slides his hand down her arm and intertwines their fingers, squeezes.   
"Me too." 

The news spreads around school quickly, and the stares vary from pitiful to angry to neutral. She couldn't really care less about them, she put Graham away, and she doesn't have to be ashamed about it.   
One evening, with her head in Bellamy's lap and his hands in her hair, she asks about the party.   
"Um, what party?"   
"The one in two days, I'm pretty sure guards have to go. How haven't you heard about it?" She turns from her position so she can see him, his face is blank. Refusing to give up any information.   
"If you don't want to go that's fine-"  
"It's not that, Clarke. There's,-" he exhales. "-there's someone else."  
She inhales sharply. The words are like a blow to her stomach, her knees and her pride all at once, taking her out completely.   
By the time she recovers he's made his way off the couch and is standing above her, eyes shining. She stands up, staring him in the eye.   
"For how long?"  
"Clarke, we shouldn't-"  
"No, you're right, I'd rather not know. I'd rather not know that while I've been falling in love, you've been falling into another girls bed! Bellamy how could you!" She gives him a shove, and he doesn't fight her, he stares at the ground.   
"You aren't even going to try to deny it? God, how could I have ever let myself be involved with you." She spits, disgusted. His eyes snap to hers, all sad and puppy like.   
"Don't look at me like that, you're the one in the wrong here."  
"You're the one jumping to conclusions, Clarke." He looks like he's about to say something more, but he simply pushes a hand through his hair and moves towards the door.   
His hand freezes on the handle, and he turns to look at her.   
"I love you, too."  
And then he's gone.   
Clarke cries herself to sleep, yelling at herself for how she could be so stupid, how could she let herself get attached, let him trick her.   
It doesn't make herself feel better, neither does sleeping with Nala, but she still tries none the less. 

When the party comes, she doesn't want to even think about moving, but she isn't going to let some boy dictate her life any longer. The worst part of it all, she's not even mad at him, she would take him back in a heartbeat if she had any less sanity, no, she's mad at herself.   
When Abby asks what's wrong, she simply tells her that she and Bellamy had a fight. And they don't discuss the topic any further, Abby offers her nice dress for Clarke to wear to the party and she gladly accepts.   
As she's getting ready, she looks at herself in the mirror, wondering what wasn't enough for him.   
She arrives at the party twenty minutes after it starts, when it's in full swing and everyone has already started dancing. She taps Luke, an acquaintance more than a friend, on the shoulder and they begin to dance together. He tells a joke that she doesn't get, she laughs anyway. Over his shoulder she sees Bellamy, talking to a brunette, she's never seen him look so nervous before. She immediately looks away, if he doesn't care about her, she's not going to worry about him. But her eyes land back on him whether she tells them to or not. The brunette dances in front of him, not sexually, in a nerdy way. Like the world hasn't been cruel to her yet, Clarke wishes she could be in her shoes.   
When the guards come, she sees Bellamy panic. And no matter how much she doesn't want to, she does care about him, and her feet carry her to his side.   
"What's going on?" She asks touching his shoulder. He looks surprised, but then he face melts into gratefulness and her heart pools around her stomach.   
"ID check, and she,-" he points to the brunette. "-she doesn't have one." He scrubs his face and sighs. Clarke glances between the two of them, she would have though that the girl was the other woman, had she not known better. Bellamy wouldn't bring her to the party if she wasn't important to him.   
"I'll take her." She says.   
"Clarke, no."  
But she's already leading the girl out by the hand and promising to keep her safe. A guard stops them at the door.   
"ID."  
"No time, I need to take her to the medbay." Clarke tries to move past him, he steps in front of her.   
"ID." He says slowly.   
The brunette huffs. "Listen if you want me to barf all over your shoes then please continue to hold us up, if not, let us through and we'll both be on our ways."   
Clarke tries not to look too shocked, and stares down the guard. He smacks his lips and gives a distasteful look, before stepping aside. The brunette smiles.   
"Thank you for the consideration." Clarke hurriedly tugs the girl along, and only stops when they're far away from the party.   
"Where do you live?"  
The girl nibbles her lip. "I don't know if I can tell you."  
"If you're worried about me getting mad, I promise, I won't. Bellamy is important to me, I want you to be safe for both of your sakes."   
She doesn't speak for a moment, then she gives a small smile.   
"I'm Octavia, and I live with Bell."  
Clarke doesn't let her mind think, just pulls Octavia along until they reach Bellamy's compartment. They go inside and Octavia opens a hole under the floor.   
"What the-"  
"I know. Just, come on. They'll be doing search soon." Octavia crawls in, and Clarke follows. It's very cramped, and she can't wait to be able to stretch out her legs again.   
But Octavia makes great company.   
"I'm really glad that you and Bellamy met. I mean, under those circumstances, it sucked, but Bell's never been more happy."   
"Does he talk about me much?"  
Octavia scoffs. "You're all he ever talks about, he tells me about your artwork and the jokes that you make. You make him really happy."  
Clarke flushes. "It goes both ways."  
She doesn't ask about any other people that Bellamy spends time with, they did just meet after all.   
But she asks about Octavia's favourite colour, if Bellamy taught her how to read, which obviously he did.   
Octavia asks her about life on the ark, how many parties she's been to, what she's planning to do as a work detail.   
It must be hours before they hear the door unlock, and they both fall silent.   
The footsteps ring into their ears, shaking Clarke to the core. She holds Octavia's hands and tries not to move. The footsteps stop above the hole, and she holds her breath.   
"Octavia?"  
"I'm here." She answers, letting go of Clarke's hands and scrambling to unlock the chamber. She scurries out of the floorboards and into Bellamy's arms. He hugs her with just as much force. Clarke stands there, awkwardly. "It was nice meeting you, Octavia." She pats the girls back as she's passing and begins to open the door.   
"Wait. Clarke?" Bellamy grabs her wrist, holding her in place.   
"What?"  
"Can I talk to you? Outside?" He glances at Octavia and she knows that this isn't something he wants her to hear. Clarke nods.   
They slip outside and she leans against the far wall.   
"Is that the someone else?" She finally asks, after minutes of silence.   
"Yeah." Is all he says.   
She looks at him for a while, it's only been days since their fight, but he looks different. Maybe she's just used to seeing him smile more.   
"Why didn't you just tell me? Did you think you couldn't trust me? After all this time?" Her voice cracks.   
"That is not why, don't even go there." He says, he closes the space between them and takes her face in his hands. He kisses away the tears that mark her cheeks.   
"Tell me then, why didn't you tell me?" She covers his hands with her own. He sighs.   
"Because it's not your burden to bear Clarke, it's my mothers secret, which means to keep my family safe, it's my secret too. You never asked for this."  
She presses against him. "But I want you. All of you. You told me that I'd have to be ok with showing you my broken parts, that is a two way street my friend."  
"Clarke-"  
"I may not have asked for it, but I'm so glad that I got it. My life would be so crappy of you hadn't peeled me off the floor and taken me to med."  
He grins. "Well I couldn't just leave you there bleeding out on the floor, it would have reflected badly on me."  
Clarke snorts. "Oh so you only saved me for yourself?"  
He nods and kisses her. Slow and passionate and it takes her breath away.   
"Very selfish reasons." He mumbles into her neck. She pushes her fingers through his hair.   
"I love you." She sighs, happily.  
He grins and kisses her again.   
"I will never get tired of you saying that."  
"Good, because I'm going to be saying it for a long time."


End file.
